


These Hips Were Made For Grabbing

by HunterByDayWhovianByNight



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Femdom, Fingerfucking, Fluff and Smut, Light Angst, Pegging, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Reunion Sex, Strap-Ons
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-12
Updated: 2020-07-12
Packaged: 2021-03-05 03:28:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,981
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25217764
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HunterByDayWhovianByNight/pseuds/HunterByDayWhovianByNight
Summary: "Thou and I are too wise to woo peaceably.” ―William ShakespeareWhen Plo gets back from a mission, you (yes, you!!) like to take care of him.
Relationships: Plo Koon/Female Reader, Plo Koon/Reader
Comments: 10
Kudos: 31





	These Hips Were Made For Grabbing

**Author's Note:**

> I didn't think too hard about this. This is for Hara. Title is inspired by "These Boots Were Made For Walkin'" by Nancy Sinatra. 
> 
> ~Hunter

You tried not to worry every time Plo was gone, but here you were, alone in your room (you’d sent your Padawan out with some of her former classmates hours ago, telling her not to come back until the morning so you could have the room to yourself for the night) and pacing back and forth. You worried your thumbnail between your teeth as your mind conjured up images of Plo getting injured, getting stranded, getting his ship shot down. It was overwhelming. Too much to bear. You tried to keep a level head, trying to remember all of your training and meditation skills, but found that you were too blocked to focus on any one thing.

Defeated, you sat down on your meditation stool and put your face in your hands. It had been two weeks since you’d spoken directly to him and the transmission he sent to the war room in the early hours of the morning today was fuzzy, brief, and not promising. Nobody could clearly make out his words: would he be coming back tonight or in two nights? There was too much blaster fire and noise to hear him clearly. 

(You’d tried to keep your shock under control when you saw his face appear on the blue hologram, not wanting to let the other Masters in the room know that you two were… attached. You couldn’t risk his position on the Council. Right now, though, you couldn’t care less what the Council thought. You wanted Plo back in your arms.)

War had changed your relationship. You were used to seeing each other around the Temple and being able to slip away into the city on your free nights, but the numbers of those free nights were rapidly dwindling with each passing week of the war. You were kept at the Temple to train prospective Padawans and Plo was always out in the field fighting the war. You’d been training younger and younger children to fight, knowing that their Gathering and their Padawan tests would happen at a much younger age than Plo’s or even yours had. Everything was changing so fast and you were losing the one man who’d you been able to hold onto for support.

You stood up abruptly and went back to pacing about the room, the hilt of your lightsaber thumping against your thigh and your robes dragging roughly against the ground. Your mind was still racing and you felt the tension mounting inside your skull as you fretted over Plo’s whereabouts.  _ What if he died minutes after that transmission? What if he was captured and that’s why his transmission cut out? _ You pinched the bridge of your nose and shook your head, burying the thoughts deep in your mind and away from the present. You’d deal with those when you could actually sit to meditate.

_ What would Master Yoda say if he could see how much I’m distressing over this right now? He’d tell me that Plo is a capable Jedi and that he can take care of himself. He’d tell me there’s no need to worry, _ you thought to yourself as you leaned against the window and gazed out at the Coruscant skyline. It was sunset. There were speeders and transports rushing to and fro, going to the clubs or restaurants or theatres. You wanted to be out there with them, carefree and enjoying life. But most of all, you wanted Plo to be there with you. You (gently) hit your head multiple times against the window frame in annoyance, wishing that you could take him off your mind. You felt blocked, distracted. If you were out in the field right now, you’d be vulnerable and open to attack. 

You hoped that Plo was faring better than you were right now. 

The room suddenly became stuffy. Or maybe you were just overheating from the stress. You cast off your heavy dark brown robe and threw it to the ground, grumbling as your vambraces got caught on the sleeves of the robe and you had to fiddle with the fabric. In your distracted state (though admittedly you were distracted before you impulsively decided to peel off your robe) you didn’t even hear your door opening.

“Did you sense that I was coming down the hall and decided to get a head start?”

You looked up, your robe still stuck on the point of your vambraces, but the sight you saw before you made you forget all about the silly robe. It was Plo. And he was standing in your door, all in one piece. His Force signature was comforting and filled the room with his ever-present ease. You felt your heart stop for the briefest moment and gasped in shock. He was here. He was back. He was  _ alive.  _ You thanked the Force that your worst fears had not been confirmed.

“Plo…” 

“I know, (Y/N). I’m back.”

He chuckled as you finally were able to unhook your sleeve from your armor. You couldn’t summon the words to retort  _ I’m trying my best, love _ with a little smirk. You approached him slowly, still in disbelief that he was here before your eyes. You were thankful that he’d pressed the door closed before you got close to him because as soon as he was within arm’s reach, you pulled him into an embrace. 

As soon as Plo was in your arms, you grabbed the folds of his robe and stood on your tiptoes to plant a kiss on the grille of his antiox mask. He wrapped his hands around your waist, keeping you flush to his body as you pressed kisses all over his face. You were sad that he couldn’t kiss you back (unless you were in his rooms, but then  _ you  _ were the one who couldn’t breathe) but whenever he leaned into your touch and kisses, you felt a surge of glee go through your chest. 

“I’m so glad you’re here,” you said between kisses, pulling Plo’s robe off his shoulders and letting it drop to the floor. “I missed you… needed you back here with me.” Your hands went to his belt and unbuckled it, wanting to get your hands under his robes and on his skin. “I was so worried.”

“Well I’m here now, little one,” Plo said, his hand sliding up your spine (which sent  _ ridiculously  _ pleasurable jolts down your spine and straight to your groin) and his voice deepening. He cradled the back of your head in his one hand, forcing you to look up at his face. You could just barely see his eyes through his goggles. Your heart beat just a hair faster, anticipating what he would say next. Heat was pooling in your abdomen and groin already and your arousal was mounting. You wanted to take him to the bed already and get him beneath you. “And there’s no need to worry anymore. I plan to be here all night.”

_ All night, you say? Well then I better get started,  _ you thought to yourself mischievously. 

“Do you want to…” You trailed off as you bit your lip and slid your hands down his chest. You rested them firmly on his slim hips. With just a little bit of Force, you held him against the door, not letting him slip away from your grasp. You knew how much he loved being manhandled like this; his breathing hitched for just the slightest second as you pinned and trapped him between your body and the door. 

“You know I always want to when I come back,” Plo said, biting back a groan that threatened to slip from his mouth. You rolled your hips ever so slightly against his, testing out the waters, and heard him sigh.  _ There it is,  _ you thought to yourself. His fingers tugged on the hair at the base of your head as he struggled to keep his resolve and he let his other hand drop from your waist to his side. You didn’t have to look to tell that his palm was flat against the door.

“Did you think about this, love?” You asked, slotting your thigh between two of his so you could grind against his leg. “Did you think about me pinning you against the wall and kriffing you? Did you think about me when you were all alone?” You felt him hardening against your own thigh as he became more aroused. You buried your head against his neck, feeling the points of his antiox mask brush against your scalp. You laid kisses on his neck, gentle ones that were a mere brush of lips and lingering ones that had him keening against you. 

“Yes, dear, yes,” Plo said breathlessly. You gave him one last kiss on the grille of his mask before pulling away and allowing yourself to get a better look at him. Here he was, Master Plo Koon of the Jedi Council, flustered and breathless and hard in  _ your _ rooms. He really was a sight to see when he was like this. You looked him up and down, hands on your hips and a cocky smile on your face, making sure to take your time.

“Strip for me,  _ Master Plo _ ,” you said suggestively as you began to loosen the folds of your own robes. Careful not to trip on the clothes on the floor, you walked backwards to the bed until your legs hit the mattress. All the while, you kept your eyes focused on Plo, who was slowly removing each of those damned layers and letting them drop unceremoniously to the floor. You could tell that he was trying to go as quickly as his addled brain would allow him to because he was fumbling with the latches on his vambraces. You smirked to yourself.

“Who’s the one struggling now?” You chuckled as Plo finally managed to get his vambrace off. He gave you an annoyed little look with a scoff before he set to work on his boots. Distractedly, you thumbed the latches off your own vambraces as you admired his hands. You immediately thought of them deep inside you, rubbing against your walls and hitting that pleasurable spot he always managed to find so easily. You tried to ignore the growing heat in your stomach and the slickness between your own thighs as you watched him lean over to pull off his boot in one, swift go. All he had on were his undershirt and trousers (and one boot) but you could see his muscles rippling beneath the thin fabric. You tried to keep your breathing level despite your racing heart.

“So, love,” Plo said as he walked towards you and the bed. You gripped the bedsheets in your fingers in expectation. You wanted this. You were  _ dying  _ to have his hips in your hands and his body up against yours again. “Do you plan to remove your clothes, or do you want me to do that for you?” 

“Why don’t you come over here and do it for me?” You asked with a suggestive look in your eye. 

“Anything for you, mistress.” Plo chuckled darkly in his chest before loosening your robes and pulling them off your shoulders. He dropped them to the floor and then set to work on your trousers. You were thankful that your boots had been kicked off long before he walked in the door. Slowly, he pulled down the trousers, getting on his knees the lower he went. You shivered as his fingers brushed over your now-bare skin. You clenched your thighs together, trying to give yourself some friction. He was acting so reverent, so affectionate.

“You look good on your knees, love,” you told him as he pulled down your underwear. The expectation was building in your chest and you tried to summon all your firmness so that you wouldn’t buck your hips into his face. “Touch me, Plo. Touch me already.”

“Anything for you,” Plo whispered as he inched his fingers up your thighs, parting them so that he could slide his fingers inside your cunt. You were aching for him already, wanting him to touch you. The higher up he got, the more pleasurable tingles went up your spine and straight to your clit. You bit your lip, trying to control any breathy moan that might leave your mouth as he slid his fingers into you.

He grazed his claws over your clit and across your lips, making you shudder and crane your back. You heard Plo chuckle to himself again as he finally slipped two of his fingers inside your cunt, making you moan aloud and screw your eyes shut. You curled your toes as you adjusted to the welcome intrusion of his fingers. The way his fingers felt inside your cunt, large and thick and pointed, never failed to make you weak. You could’ve sworn you saw Plo smirk as you bit your lip in anticipation for what he’d do next. He began to pump his fingers in you, hitting your g-spot each time. His fingers, ending in that (delightful) taper, always brought you pleasure with a near-deadly accuracy. 

He alternated between his paces, sometimes going quick and rough, sometimes going slow and languid. It was just agonizing enough to make your cunt ache and your wetness spread over his whole hand. You clenched your walls around his fingers as you felt yourself edging nearer to your climax. Just when you were about to rub your clit, his other hand set to work on stimulating it. You thanked the Force that he could always sense what you needed, when you needed it. The moans and whimpers fell more freely from your lips now. As you got closer to your climax, the less you cared about keeping quiet. You rolled your hips slowly as his ministrations continued, the pleasure becoming almost too much to bear. 

“Plo, I’m going to come,” you panted as he increased the pace of his fingers. You flexed the muscles of your abdomen and thighs as you felt your climax nearing. Plo angled his fingers up and let his claws graze teasingly against your g-spot. You keened into his hand and gripped the sheets tightly as you braced yourself for your orgasm; that trick with his claws was always world-shattering. You gave a breathless cry as you came, the knot in your abdomen finally being released. He slowed his fingers down, pumping them slowly inside you through your orgasm. You slumped against the bed, breathless, as warmth and pleasure washed through you.

“I take it you enjoyed that?” Plo asked as he joined you on the bed. You chuckled and pulled him closer to you by the waistband of his trousers. He was completely hard now; you could feel his cock pressing needily against your thigh. You made sure not to touch it— he would be coming untouched tonight. You unbuttoned and unzipped his trousers swiftly, needing to feel his body, and allowed him to push them down as you rucked up his undershirt. 

“Enjoyed was an understatement,” you admitted as you pulled the undershirt over his head, mindful of his antiox mask. You pushed him to his back and straddled him, keeping his slim hips lodged firmly between your thighs. His cock throbbed hard against your wet cunt, making you feel all the more aroused and needy. He could flip you right now and put you on your back, but you knew he wanted this, wanted to give you the control. From this position, you were finally able to see the expanse of his scarred, muscular chest. You let your fingers trace each small bump or gnarled area of flesh. You grazed your fingernails over his muscles and nipples. When you began to circle his nipples and toy with them, pinching them into small buds and lightly brushing the tip of your fingernail over them, he shivered and whined. 

“Do you like that, slut? Do you enjoy it?” You held his gaze but kept your fingers working on his right nipple. He moaned when he heard the word slut— he always did. 

“Yes, yes, I like it.” His voice was strained and needy. He  _ adored  _ being degraded like this; he’d breathlessly confessed it to you the first time you had sex. You then pulled your hands away, leaving him wanting for your touch and making him grunt in displeasure. 

“Are you going to use the toy, mistress?” Plo asked with a heady, rough voice. The way he asked you that, calling you  _ mistress  _ like he was a desperate whore, sent a chill down your spine. His hands were flat against the bed and his heart was racing. You could feel it beating quicker and quicker underneath your palms. You smiled a loth-cat smile at his request and nodded.

“Of course I am,” you said with a tsk and a wink. You reached between your mattress and the wall for the box you kept stashed there that had the dildo and harness you’d bought when you and Plo started seeing each other. He’d expressed interest in wanting to be topped by you, and you’d been more than willing to actually try it. It was a titillating experience, having the control and his body in your hands. 

Plo’s eyes tracked your hands as you opened the box and pulled out the sleek toy. His eyes widened in expectation as you turned it over in your hands. You pretended to jack it off for a few playful, joking strokes, which made the both of you laugh. You straightened your shoulders and narrowed your gaze. In a more serious voice, you said, “Turn over. Get on your stomach.” You stood on your knees above him and allowed him to switch positions.

“Yes, mistress,” Plo said, complying with your request. He buried the side of his face in the pillow and put his hands above his head. You grinned, loving the lingering shiver of pleasure that his submissiveness sent down your spine and to your clit. You removed the bottle of lube and harness from the box and laid them beside you on the bed, letting them hit Plo’s bare thigh. You purposefully let the dildo touch his thigh, reminding him of what would be happening soon. He shivered at the contact and fisted the sheets in his hands. You hadn’t even touched him yet but he was already so needy. 

With careful, practiced hands, you put the harness on, making sure that the straps were just tight enough and that it wouldn’t slip off. You preferred to do this now before your hands were covered in lube and you got the harness sticky. Plo’s breathing was heavy, labored. You sensed his desire and his anticipation for what would happen next. When you clicked open the cap on the bottle of lube, you could swear you saw him jump in surprise. You giggled at his reaction and poured the lube over your fingers. 

“I bet you’re so excited for me, slut.” Gingerly, you circled the rim of his hole, letting him get used to the feeling of your fingers. “So excited for me to put my fingers inside you and make you beg for it.” He shuddered and gasped, his breathing already heavy and rough. You  _ loved  _ how sensitive and needy he was. Every whimper and gasp sent a jolt of pleasure to your whole groin. You couldn’t wait to kriff him.

“Please…” Plo begged, clearly sick of your teasing. You relented, deciding that you may as well give him what he wanted. “Please, mistress, I’ve been so patient.”

“Alright, alright,” you said with an offhand tone. You finally pressed two fingers into him and he fisted the sheets to brace himself. You slowly began to finger him and open him up, scissoring your fingers ever so slightly. He let out breathy moans and pleas for  _ more, more  _ as you continued working your fingers into his hole. Your cunt dripped as you watched him fall apart; his back muscles flexing and unflexing, his thighs rubbing against your clit when he squirmed, his hands gripping the sheets. It gave you a sense of power to know that you had him writhing in pleasure by your hand. You added a third finger, stretching him even wider, and he cried out in bliss. 

“I want you inside me already, love,” Plo said, his voice gravelly and needy. You found the bundle of nerves inside him that always made Plo writhe in pleasure and began to stimulate it mercilessly. He panted and keened into your touch, pushing his hips back onto your fingers needily. His hips were in the air now, arched off the bed. It was truly a sight.

“Beg for it, love. Beg for me.” You began to slow down the pace of your fingers, making him pant heavier in exhaustion. At first, he just made weak, pathetic noises that were nothing more than grunts or moans. That wasn’t going to be enough for you— you wanted him to beg. “Come on. Beg like the slut you are.”

“Please, mistress… I want you to kriff me so hard I can’t walk, can’t sit,” Plo’s breath caught in his throat and he gasped for air as his pleasure became overwhelming. “I want you to kriff me and, and—”

“And what?” You asked teasingly as you slowly began to remove your fingers.

“And make me let go, make me forget my name. I want to be yours,” Plo begged, his voice becoming thinner and reedier as he was edging towards his climax. “I want to be good for you.”

Satisfied with what he’d said (it had made your cunt grow hot and throb with need) you slipped your fingers from his needy hole and finally allowed him some rest. He finally was able to breathe and unflex his contracted muscles. He lay against the sheets, heaving and practically vibrating with pleasure.

“You ready for me, then?” You slipped the dildo into the harness and made sure it was secure. He made a noise of affirmation, a hum of sorts, signalling his consent. Plo looked over his shoulder at you and watched as you slicked it up with the lube; you sensed his excitement and arousal as he watched you prepare yourself. You offered him a wink, one that had him blushing. “Hips in the air, then. Ass up.” He obeyed, carefully positioning himself and spreading his legs wider. You moved for him, ensuring he had enough room to be comfortable. You gave him a playful slap on his ass before gripping the flesh of it in your hands, which earned you a little yelp.

“This ass is mine, you know,” you said with a dominant tone, giving it one last squeeze before you carefully lined up the dildo with his hips. You heard him breathe in as you pressed the tip of it against his hole and then let out a long, strangled gasp as you inserted it. You smirked, reveling in the response he gave you. It sent a jolt of pleasure to your groin that matched the pleasurable stimulation the base of the dildo gave your clit. You groaned, biting your lip as you bottomed out inside him.

You finally took his hips in both of your hands and tested out your grip. His skin was mottled, firm, and muscled beneath your palms. It was leathery, but that didn’t bother you; it made it easier to grab onto his hips and move him the way you wanted to. You began to thrust your hips roughly into him, making sure that the dildo hit that sensitive spot of nerves inside his body. You moved his body on the toy, not caring whether or not he cried out in pain or in pleasure. From what you could hear, though, he seemed to be in the throes of pleasure. He moaned and whined, sobbed and gasped; everything you were giving him was garnering a response of pleasure and satisfaction.

You, too, though, were feeling the same pleasure and arousal. Each time you thrust into him or pulled his hips back towards you, the base of the toy bumped against your clit, sending heat and pleasure through your body. You propped yourself up on one leg to get better traction and kriff him harder (he had asked you to do it so hard that you wouldn’t be able to walk or sit), making his cries louder and more frequent. He was moaning more now, and his breaths were even more labored than before. You could swear he was even crying with pleasure.

“Do you like it when I kriff you like this?” You asked, panting and trying to fight back the moans that were bubbling in your throat. “Do you like not being in control, do you like giving it up? Do you like it when someone else is in charge for once?”

“Yes, yes, yes, love, yes,” Plo whined. He gasped when you gave him a particularly hard thrust and knocked the wind out of him. You could feel his thighs trembling and struggling to keep him up. He was close; that much was obvious to you. You felt the heat building in your groin, too; you found yourself unconsciously clenching your throbbing, dripping cunt and flexing your thighs. It was an effort to keep up your fast pace and forceful thrusts now, but you maintained your ministrations so that you could finally push you both towards climax.

“Are you close, Plo? Do you wanna come, you slut?”

“Yes, I-I am, yes…”

“Come, then,” you commanded, slowing down your pace to something more languid and sensuous, wanting to make Plo  _ feel  _ the toy as you moved in and out of him slowly. “Say the magic words, ask me what you want me to call you.” You gently pushed him down to the bed and turned him so that you were both on your sides. He squirmed against you and let out a strangled gasp as the toy shifted around inside him due to the change in positions. 

“Come on. Say the magic words, Plo.” You swung your free leg over his hips and folded his arms behind his back. Now, he was flush against your body. He could definitely feel your breasts against his back in this position and you could keep him locked in place easier. 

“Please.” Plo whimpered pathetically, pushing his hips back to meet your thrusts. “Please, mistress. Please call me your slut. I’m your slut, I want to be your slut.” He whispered it, barely able to speak as his pleasure began to consume him and wrack his body in little tremors. He gasped when your knee brushed his leaking cock. 

“You’re my slut, Plo. You’re my slut.” You said it through gritted teeth, picking up your pace and hitting him deeper. You made sure you bottomed out on every thrust, wanting him to feel the full length of the toy each time you buried yourself in him. “You’re my slut. I love hearing you beg for me. I love seeing you fall apart in my hands.” He moaned and whimpered at your words to him, an obvious sign of your talents. “Now come. I want to hear you call out my name.”

Plo groaned and gasped, his body convulsing against yours as he finally came a few thrusts later, completely untouched. And didn’t just call out your name— he screamed it. Maybe a little too loud, but your room was at the very end of a less-populated hallway. His come covered his chest and your bedspread, but you didn’t care. His back arched into your chest as he came, burying the toy deeper inside of him. You hooked your chin over his shoulder and allowed your own orgasm to go through your body, its warmth and pleasure filling every neuron and cell and turning your limbs into jelly. Both of you lay there in the bed, together, sweating and panting and fatigued but feeling overjoyed.

“Welcome home, Master Plo,” you said as you pressed a gentle, loving kiss to his shoulder.

Plo sighed in relief and bliss. “I’m glad to be home, little one.” He worked his hand from behind his back and stroked the thigh you still had slung over his hips; the touch was tender and sent little jolts of pleasure right to your overworked clit. You shivered against him and whined at his simple touches, not even caring that you were too overstimulated to move.

“I wish you never had to leave,” you said mournfully, burying your face into his back.

“I know, (Y/N),” Plo replied, rubbing soft circles into your thigh. You could sense each other’s sadness and yearning. It made your heart heavy to know that he could be leaving in a matter of a few days without much notice.

“I’m going to miss you when you’re gone.” You slipped the toy out of him, making him grunt at the removal, and unstrapped the harness. You dropped it off the bed and repositioned yourself so that you were sitting over his reclining body. Plo reached up and stroked your cheek; you couldn’t help but lean into his touch. You lived for these moments, when the two of you were alone and could just  _ be  _ together.

“Well… I have leave for a couple weeks,” Plo admitted, sitting up in the bed and meeting your eyes. You gasped in excitement; finally,  _ finally  _ you could be with him and return to the way your relationship was before the war. You took his face in your hands and kissed the grille of his antiox mask, making him chuckle in amusement. 

“You should’ve told me that as soon as you walked in the door!”

“And miss out on you kriffing me like that?” Plo said with a cocky raise of his eyebrow. “Never.”

**Author's Note:**

> me, in ya brain: kudos/comment on this fic  
> you: but why  
> me, in ya brain: you gotta
> 
> ~Hunter


End file.
